


A Rocking Cradle

by Soleil_Lumiere



Series: The Drowning of Innocence [1]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Canonical Character Death (Lucy), Family Drama, Family Feels, Gen, Young Tracys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-04-28 14:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14450841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soleil_Lumiere/pseuds/Soleil_Lumiere
Summary: This story is pre International Rescue and plots an alternative version of how the organisation came into existence.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not exist in its current format without the ever beautiful CorbyinOz being an amazing cheerleader, a great friend, and someone who when you say to her "I think the story is getting too complicated", turns around and says "Actually, I don't think it is complicated enough".

A Rocking Cradle is pre International Rescue and plots an AU version of how the organisation came into existence.

In this AU, the world geo-political scene is much as it is today: countries never united to form a world government nor a global defence force. Powerful individuals, big business and multi-national corporations have more money and power than many governments, but there is little research and development as it is not deemed to be profitable enough by the shareholders of these companies, and a waste of money by many wealthy individuals who enjoy the status quo.  As a result, technology has not advanced much past the present day.  Where a company does innovate, they are ripe for industrial espionage as competitors look to steal new developments without the research and development costs.

Because of the altered geo-political scene, the timeline for many people in the Tracy’s circle has changed resulting in them either not being present in this story or being on a different course and therefore being different people to those we are used to in Thunderbirds canon.

Note: The concept for this story started this story many moons ago (hangs head guiltily…) when Corbyinoz and I sat down in her back garden one sunny autumn afternoon.

Since both ‘Home on the Range’ and ‘Grandma Tourismo’, I’ve had to change a few minor plot points to reflect those episodes.  I’ve decided both Lucy and Jeff grew up at opposite ends of rural Kansas but didn’t meet until they could both drive, although Lucy did spend some time in New York as a child.

Ever since TOS my headcanon has always been that Virgil is the middle child, so I’m continuing to stick with that.  At the beginning of ‘A Rocking Cradle’ Scott is aged 12, John 10, Virgil 7, Gordon 5 and Alan is 3 years old.


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff begins to learn about the world of politics.

_…The darkness drops again but now I know_  
That twenty centuries of stony sleep  
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,  
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born…

 

_The Second Coming,_ _W. B. Yeats. 1919_

 

** Prologue: **

 

“Whiskey?”

 

Barely keeping his impatience in check, Jeff turned towards the portly man who began to pour amber liquid into a crystal tumbler.

 

‘’Ah, no, thanks Mr Secretary. I’m flying back to Kansas straight after this meeting.”

 

“Kansas. Don’t know why you’d choose to live in that forsaken dust bowl, not after everything you’ve seen and done.”

 

A gentle snort came from Jeff’s left, and he glanced across the coffee table to the woman, silver hair pulled back into a tight bun, crisp navy uniform adorned with four stars on each shoulder and rows of coloured ribbons.

 

“Carlton, you should know enough about us Midwesterners. You can take us out of the Midwest, but it’ll always be our home.” Jeff’s former Commander from his USAF flight training at Nellis grinned at him. “Of course you’ll never convince me that Kansas is better than Oklahoma, but I understand why Jeff’s based the family there. I’d do the same in his shoes.”

 

 “Flat, uninteresting, dull, boiling hot or freezing cold. Full of cattle and crops and tornados.” Carlton Naranjo, US Secretary of Defense waddled across to the winged armchair in the centre of his office. “I suppose I should offer you something else, although if you aren’t going to drink whiskey, god only knows what. Pop? Tea or coffee? Water?”

 

“Tea, please. Darjeeling if you have it, dash of warm milk, no sugar.”

 

“I’ll have a coffee, black, one sugar,” Jeff chimed in.

 

“Darjeeling! Nevaeh, if I didn’t know from your confirmation hearing you’re a Yank, I’d accuse you of being a Brit with the amount of tea you drink. Who’d ever thought you’d spend over thirty years in the military and come out of it drinking tea.” Activating a small intercom and placing the order, Carlton’s broad New Jersey accent was obvious as he joked. Jeff tried not to roll his eyes.

 

“That’s what happens when you get posted to the UK and then India one after the other, Carlton. You develop a taste for tea.”

 

“I suppose we’re lucky you didn’t get posted to Australia. You’d be drinking beer all the time.”

 

Jeff tried not to grit his teeth as light-hearted chitchat continued until the requested drinks arrived and the aide departed. This part of business was never his favourite. 

 

“So, Jeff, tell me ‘bout this wondrous new invention of yours and how it’ll benefit the good ol’ US of A. When Nevaeh here starts to get excited ‘bout something, I always know it’s something worthwhile.”

 

“Well, early days at the moment, Mr Secretary-“

 

“Jeff, if we’re going to do business you’d best call me Carlton. At least in private -otherwise those ol’ fuddy-duddies in Cabinet get their catheters in a knot.”

 

“Okay, Carlton. As I said, early days but the modelling looks very promising for this new engine. Looks like it’ll knock about ten hours off circumnavigation of Earth at the equator.”

 

“Carlton,” Nevaeh leaned forward. “You don’t know Jeff the way I do. I can tell you this though, if he says it’ll knock ten hours off something, it’ll actually be fifteen.”

 

 “So planes fly faster. At least this will help the Air Force get places quicker. No more embarrassing debacles like - well you know where I’m referring to.”

 

Jeff glanced at Nevaeh, wondering about the reference. Getting no hint from her, he continued.

 

“Actually, I think this engine will be compatible with cars, ships, space flight, heck even submarines the way our modelling is looking.”

 

“Now you’re talking, Jeff. This could be a huge boon to our military –“

 

“And the economy in general, Sir. Public transport, logistics, emergency and rescue, foreign aid provision - it would all be cheaper and more efficient– the uses could be unlimited.”

 

“Yes, yes of course. But the military would get first bite of the cherry.”

 

Jeff was about to open his mouth when he caught Nevaeh subtly signalling him to be quiet.

 

“Yes, I can see it now. This could be a joint venture between Tracy Corporation and the US military initially. After all, we’re the only branch of government that has the budget to invest in this type of innovation. Once the military have proven its viable technology, we could consider other uses. For the right price of course. Could be a nice little money earner for the military.” Carlton patted his belly. “Yes, I like this.”

 

Jeff was about to correct Carlton that in fact Tracy Corporation would be getting 100% of the profits given he was the one investing all the research and development up front, when he noticed Nevaeh tweak her fingers at him again. Throwing an annoyed look at his former commander, now Chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Jeff was only slightly mollified when he caught her using old Air Force hand signals from their deployment days, warning him to be patient.

 

“Jeff, if this does as you say, I really think this could be a goer. Only issue will be fitting it into the budget cycle. We can’t afford it in this coming year’s budget and the Technology Committee budget approval for the following year is not until next October next year.  That’s over twelve months away. Will that be a problem? How much progress can you make by then?”

 

“You leave that with me and Jeff, Carlton. We’ll make sure that the submission is ready by then.” Nevaeh looked at the antique steeple clock in the corner. “We should go, Mr Secretary. As your assistant reminded us repeatedly earlier, you have another meeting scheduled in five minutes.”

 

“I know I can rely on you, Nevaeh. Jeff, good work. I’m looking forward to regular updates on progress.” Carlton turned his back on them in dismissal and opened the intercom. “Tom, send in Commander Crosby now.”

 

Walking out of the large oak panelled office, Jeff almost tripped up at hearing that name. He knew a Crosby during fighter training. The man was insufferable, arrogant and-

 

As the door opened in front of him, Jeff remembered one of the primary reasons he disliked Oliver Crosby. 

 

“Jeff! Oh, sorry Ms. Chair. I didn’t see you there.” Watching as the bald man snapped off a smart salute to his Chairperson of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Jeff felt all his old disdain bubble up. The man still had the same supercilious smirk and manner that so annoyed him when they first met all those years ago as green USAF trainees at Nellis Air Force Base. Nevaeh returned the salute crisply before exiting through the double doors with Jeff following closely behind.

\-----

“Commander?” He waited until they were both seated in the soundproofed back section of the limousine before asking the burning question. Nevaeh held up a finger indicating for Jeff to wait as she pushed the intercom to the driver.  

 

“Hyde Field, Captain. We’ll drop Mr Tracy back at his plane.”

 

“It’ll be slow going, Ma’am. Roadworks on Southeast Freeway.”

 

“That’s fine, thank you Lieutenant. I don’t have any appointments until dinner with the Japanese Ambassador at nineteen hundred and Mr Tracy is flying himself. No hurry.”

 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

 

“Nevaeh, you don’t have to-“

 

“Nonsense.” Jeff watched as she checked the intercom was off, and then rolled tense shoulders. “It gives us a chance to debrief after meeting with Carlton. Although it’ll take a few days to discuss everything we need to cover. So, Crosby,” she sighed. “Commander, Air Mobility and before you ask, no I did not support his appointment. It happened during my confirmation so I didn’t get a say in it.”

 

“Given his spectacular cluster-fuck during the Nepal mission in ’33, I’m surprised he didn’t get busted down to second lieutenant.”

 

“I forgot you were in radio silence on your way back from Mars when that hearing was on. His father pulled in some favours with the then Chair of the Joint Chiefs. It led to the then Chair’s ‘retirement’ and Astrid Karlsson’s appointment into the post.”

 

“I was wondering why he retired early, but you know, we got back from Mars, Lucy got pregnant and I left NASA in pretty quick succession. I never did get the full story about what happened. Wasn’t really that interested once I knew Scott was on the way, to be frank.”

 

“Can’t blame you. It began a pretty sordid period for the service. The President was forced to appoint Astrid as the new Chair JCS with a mandate to clean everything up. She did a great job of it too. But Crosby had already been cleared by JAG and couldn’t be retried. They thought the best option was to shove him into a desk-jockey job.”

 

“Well, that obviously didn’t work if he’s Commander Air Mobility.”

 

“To be frank, we were out of options. After the Military Integrity Commission, we were pretty light on the ground. Jim Mason and Harriet Cheng were both killed in what Carlton just referred to as the ‘debacle’.” Nevaeh continued quickly cutting Jeff’s question off. “And no, I can’t discuss that with you, it’s classified.  Alex Palmer is currently under JAG investigation, also classified. The rest were just too green to consider. We even thought about bringing Johan Leister back from NASA, but he’d recently retired. Medical grounds. Diagnosed with bone cancer although he doesn’t want anyone to know about it, doesn’t want the fuss. Latest word is he’s not expected to make it another three months.”

 

Jeff was silent, remembering his jovial ex-colleague from his first space mission **,** hauling and installing replacement satellite parts in Asteria Nine. “Typical Johan. How is Rod taking his illness?”

 

“You know Rod.” Nevaeh looked out the window. “Jokes about everything but’s there when you really need him.”

 

 They drew up at a set of traffic lights as the sun sank behind the Smithsonian.

 

“What’s the story with Carlton, Nevaeh?”

 

“I know you don’t want your inventions to only be used for the military, but you did come to me first to run the idea past me. If I by-passed Carlton as Secretary of Defense, and went straight to the Transport Secretary or Chair of the Appropriations Committee, Carlton would find a way to shut us down before we even got started.”

 

“He’s that powerful?”

 

“Oh yeah, he’d also probably blackball Tracy Corp, just to ensure the message got out there to others not to cross him.”

 

“Not good.”

 

“No, not good. You know you put me in a bind, damn you Jeff. You never learned the ins and outs of politics, always relied on your capability and intelligence.”

 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

 

“No, it’s not a bad thing, so don’t you ever change. But the politics here in DC is so much more cut-throat than the Air Force.”

 

“How do you manage then? I seem to remember you never had the patience for it.”

 

“I learned. I had to. It was the only way I survived the fall out after ’33 and Crosby’s clusterfuck. And then Astrid took me under her wing, said she needed a straight shooter to run her command after she took her next posting.  Little did either of us know where that was going lead to.”

 

Watching his former commander take a small device from her pocket, Jeff suddenly realised it was a jammer.

 

“You think we’re being monitored?”

 

“When Astrid took over the Chair of JCS, the President gave her broad powers to clean up the military. She told me she thought he really didn’t want to, but both the House and public opinion forced his hand. She ran the Military Integrity Commission for four years.”

 

“It took down a lot of corrupt officers and enlisted personnel.”

 

“And you wonder why we’re so thin on the ground that we had to appoint Crosby to a Command position? You might also remember that it resulted in a Special Counsel to investigate the Senate. A lot of Senators had to resign and some were prosecuted. A lot of aides lost their jobs.” Nevaeh looked Jeff in the eye. “Astrid took me aside once I was sworn in. She told me that a lot of the information that the Integrity Commission gathered pointed towards Carlton, but there was never enough for the Special Counsel to indict him.”

 

“And he’s still Secretary of Defense?”

 

“I did tell you he’s powerful, probably the most powerful person on the Hill. Maybe even more so than the President.”

 

Jeff could feel a headache coming on. “So you’ve just put me in front of a potentially corrupt politician, let him know about Tracy Corp’s invention-“

 

“Like I said, we need to go through Carlton, we can’t go around him otherwise he’ll black ball you and I’ll be under investigation faster than you can sneeze.”

 

“Come on Nevaeh, unless you’ve changed since we were at Nellis, the thought of you being corrupt is laughable.”

 

“A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then Jeff.” She placed a hand on his arm. “But no, I haven’t changed. I didn’t join the USAF to end my career under the cloud of an investigation.”

 

“Why take me to Carlton then, after I told you about the invention? Why not let me sell it on the open market?”

 

“Jeff, you are too much of a patriot not to let us get first bite of the cherry. This way you get to control the way it gets used in the military as opposed to it being appropriated by Carlton, you get to trade it off for use in areas you’re interested in, even if Carlton thinks he’s go the upper hand.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Yes-be. You know I’m right, you’ve seen it happen before. Jeff, you’re a national hero, heck even the Russians and Chinese want to shake your hand. Having Jeff Tracy attached to any project means all the key Secretaries will want in on the project for their portfolios. Carlton won’t be able to keep this quiet within Cabinet once it gets to budget approval, or at least he won’t be able to keep it quiet that it’s you who’s driving the innovation. You just need to make sure you keep a low profile and not arouse Carlton’s suspicion before then.”

 

“And how do I do that?”

 

“Be yourself, Jeff. Spend time in Kansas with the family; run the business as normal, don’t personally have meetings with the Russians or Chinese. Oh, and hire someone you trust to be your head of security.”

 

“I’ve already got a head of security-“

 

“I know. Javier Vincent, used to work for GMS. Clean background check. It doesn’t pick up that he’s married to Carlton’s godson’s daughter.”

 

Jeff looked at her askance. “Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“Damn.”

 

“Indeed. However he’s about to be offered a role he can’t refuse-“

 

“How do you know that?”

 

He watched as a small smirk formed on her plain face. “I’m afraid that’s cl-“

 

“Classified,” Jeff groaned. “And I suppose you’ve already picked out my next head of security too?”

 

“Now Jeff, I would never tell you how to run your business, let alone who to recruit-“

 

“But?”

 

“You need someone you can trust inside out, preferably someone you’ve known for a long time, who not only understands how you work but isn’t afraid to tell you you’re wrong on occasion. Someone who has a security and intelligence background, is well connected with the _right_ intel people, the ones we can trust.”

 

“Right, and considering I don’t know anyone who fits the bill, that person’s going to be _so_ easy to find,” Jeff muttered sarcastically. He looked out the window at pedestrians moving faster than their car. The silence in the car lingered.

 

“When was the last time you spoke to Dave Phillips?”

 

“Dave? On John’s birthday, you know he’s his godfather. We remained in touch after he was medically discharged from the USAF following the flight training accident when we were both stationed in Niger. He’s flown foreign aid mission planes since then.”

 

“Foreign aid? Really?”

 

“Yes, he was working for Global Aid flying into and out of the Ukraine when we last spoke.”

 

“I hear he’s looking for a new job.”

 

“How did you know that?”

 

“That’s cl-“

 

“Classified. Why is Dave looking for a new job ‘classified’?”

 

“You really think he’s flying foreign aid planes?”

 

“What else would he be doing? He’s not allowed to fly fighter jets after the accident, he wouldn’t get clearance for passenger jets and cargo would bore him silly.”

 

Jeff watched as Nevaeh looked out the window this time.

 

“Why don’t you give him a call, Jeff. I can guarantee you’ll find he’s the right person for your head of security job. Also, you need to start carrying a gun.”

 

“What?”

 

“I know you don’t believe in carrying them, especially now with the boys, but you need to ramp up your personal security.”

 

“Do I need to look at the security at our home?”

 

Nevaeh looked at him slowly. “I know it’s not in your nature to be suspicious, that’s why you need someone like Dave on your side. But politics across the world currently are fraught. You know yourself that all of your competitors are looking for that advantage, the same goes for foreign governments and militaries. But it’s not just them you need to look out for. There are still people on our side who evaded Astrid’s Integrity Commission and once word of your invention starts to leak, and it will - Carlton is a dangerous person to make an enemy of, but he’s just as dangerous to have on your own side. You need to ensure that your family are safe.”


	3. Family Time

_Auckland Island, Southern Pacific Ocean: 2063._

Standing with his back to the expanse of stormy ocean two hundred meters below, Scott Tracy wondered how it had all gone so wrong.

The twenty seven year old silently observed as men dressed in camouflage fatigues secured the orange rescue basket to a winch line. High above the windswept tussock grass and rata scrub, a large black military helicopter hovered, waiting to receive its cargo.

Unable to watch the swaying of the basket as it began its ascent, Scott turned to survey the small group huddled a few meters back from the cliff edge. Silver thermal blankets crackled in the gale force winds; bloody, used first aid supplies piled high as his brother, who had worked frantically to stem the flow of blood from the patient, leaned back against exposed basalt watching with an exhausted, heartsick gaze as the basket was gathered into the body of the aircraft.

A basket that contained one of the most precious people in Scott Tracy’s life.

Scrubbing bloody hands over his face, Scott turned back to stare over the turbulent dark grey ocean. Hypnotised by the churning waves and the pungent smell of brine, his mind sought refuge in happier times, back over fourteen years ago to a large low-beamed log house on a cliff overlooking another windswept coastline, with rolling waves and the smell of salt strong in the air.

 -----

_Ohlone House, Half Moon Bay Coastline, California: January 2049_

“Come on Scotty, hurry up ‘n pop corn ’m starving!”

“Gordon, how can you still be hungry? You just ate two plates of noodles.”

“Not still, Mommy. Again!”

Scott peaked around the kitchen door into the big lounge room with its large leather couches, large fireplace and low wooden ceiling, his favourite room in the house. He could see his indignant blond five-year-old brother stand in front of the roaring fireplace, little fists on his hips and a scowl creasing his forehead.

“Oh, again is it, Gordie? Okay, that makes all the difference then.” Scott could see his mom trying to hide her smile as she turned away from the fireplace.

“It does, Mommy. It means my tummy’s empty and needs to be refulled again.”

“I think you mean refuelled, Gordie.” Scott entered the longue area, carrying bowls, glasses, spoons and napkins.

“No Scotty, I mean refulled. It’s empty and needs to be refulled again.”

“Like it ever gets a chance to be empty,” Johnny muttered from the couch to Scott’s left, eyes glued to the latest astronomy journal detailing the discovery of a new exo-planet. Sitting at the ten year old’s feet, sketching complicated space rockets and realistic giant bears, Virge started to laugh in agreement before a hacking cough stopped him. Mom stooped down, feeling his forehead for a temperature as Scott watched his brother in concern.

“M’okay, Mom.”

“Have you used your inhaler tonight, sweetheart?”

“Hmmm.”

“Yeah he has Mom, just before dinner. Johnny and Allie did as well. I checked.” Scott placed everything down on the coffee table in front of the fire.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “I really don’t need it anymore. I haven’t coughed in 12 hours. Allie’s worse.” Scott glanced down at a shock of blond hair and blue eyes peeking over the top of the small pile of blankets next to John.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” Mom smiled at her youngest.

“Wanna ice cream, Mommy.” Allie’s attempt to be emphatic was interrupted by the same hacking cough. Scott moved towards the couch only to be beaten by his mother.

Scott watched their mom lean over and ruffle thick locks once the coughing stopped. Looking at his brother in sympathy, he offered a bribe guaranteed to succeed. “Okay, ice cream it is. Right after you take your antibiotics. Then you need to go to bed.”

A rapidly shaking head greeted this announcement. “I’m waiting for Daddy to get home first. He’ll read me about Mars Man.”

“The True Life Adventures of Astronaut Jeff Tracy, First Man to Set Foot on Mars Surface,” Johnny muttered, as Scott hid a grin and turned back towards the kitchen.

“Grab the antibiotics please, Scott. Really, John, that old edition of Time magazine thing?”

Scott grabbed antibiotics, four different packages of food, and a bottle of water from the top cupboard and placed them on a tray, smiling as he heard the chatter continue in the longue room.

“That’s the one!” Johnny said in a light-hearted tone.

“That must be so torn and dog-eared by now.”

“ ‘M Daddy’s Star Boy,” Allie proclaimed.

“Yes, you are, my little man.”

“Stars are boring!” Gordie stated. “Fish ‘n sharks rule.”

Scott rolled his eyes and mentally counted down for the inevitable fight.

“Not borin’!” Scott could hear the pout in Allie’s voice as he reached into the fridge to grab two bottles of topping.

“Are too. That’s why Mommy and Daddy brought Sea Otter House.”

“It’s called Ohlone House, Gords, named after the Native Americans who originally -“ Scott laughed loudly as John’s history lecture was cut short by Gordie and Allie’s continued bickering.

“When I’m big I’m gonna go faster under water than Daddy’s space ship.”

“Not!”

“Are too!”

“And here’s Scott with the popcorn kernels to pop for Gordon.” Mom interrupted the incipient argument, drawing her youngest two’s attention towards Scott, carrying the tray into the lounge and placing it on the coffee table.

“Well, I suppose you can have popcorn if you really want it Gordie, but I’m gonna have something else,” Scott teased.

“What? What are you having, Scotty?”

“Not popcorn, Gordie.”

Gordie raced after Scott as he walked back into the kitchen and pulled a large carton of ice cream from the freezer. “What? What are you having, Scotty? What?”

“Well, Allie is having ice cream, and you’re having popcorn, and Virge will have ice cream and caramel topping, and Johnny’ll have ice cream and chocolate topping-“

“And chocolate sprinkles,” came from the lounge.

“Chocolate sprinkles coming right up.” Detouring to the cupboard again, Scott grabbed the shaker of sprinkles.

“But what are you having, Scotty?”

“Not popcorn,” Scott laughed as he heard the front door open and a chorus of greetings echo from the lounge.

“Hey Dad.”

“Hi Daddy.”

“Daddy, I’m gonna have ice cream.”

“How was the drive, darling?”

“Hello, boys. Ice cream? You are very lucky, Allie. It was fine, sweetheart, although there’s already a bit of drizzle so I’m glad I didn’t leave the office any later. The roads will be slippery tomorrow morning if it holds.”

“Daddy!” Gordie raced out from the kitchen ahead of Scott. “Scotty’s not having popcorn for dessert, but he won’t tell me what he’s having.”

Scott walked back out in the lounge again to see his parents kissing in the soppy way adults in love did. Yuck. Oblivious to this, Gordie was jumping on the smaller couch trying to get their father’s attention.

“Is that so, my little fish,” Dad reached down to ruffle Gordie’s hair before glancing up at his eldest son. “I bet I know what Scott’s having.”

“What, Daddy, what?”

“What he’s always had whenever we’ve gone camping, or stayed here,” Dad snorted as he walked over to Scott who was busily scooping ice cream into three bowls, and clapped him on the shoulder. “S’mores.”

“Oh, S’mores. I’ll have S’mores too, Scotty.” Johnny paused, looking up at his eldest brother. “And ice cream with chocolate topping and sprinkles obviously.”

“Johnny, it’s one or the other, not both,” Mom called as she and Dad disappeared into the kitchen to get his dinner, and no doubt kiss some more.

“S’mores, please Scotty.” Scott grinned at his brother; he knew Johnny would have figured out he’d end up with both this way.

“I’ll stick with ice cream please, Scotty,” Virge grimaced.

“Throat still sore, Virge?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

“Okay, have your antibiotics first and then here’s an extra scoop for the sore throat.”

“Thanks, Scotty.”

“And what do you want, Gordie?” After giving a bowl of plain ice cream to his youngest brother, Scott turned to the sandy-headed boy.

Gordie stood undecided, biting his bottom lip as he looked between the ice cream his brothers were already eating, the ingredients for the S’mores, and the popcorn kernels. Grinning, Scott opened the marshmallow packet, dumping them into a bowl before reaching for the chocolate pieces.

“S’mores. I wanna have S’mores too.”

“Good choice, short stuff.”

Half an hour later, Scott lazed contentedly on the big couch nearest to the fire, flicking through the latest brochures and magazines on supersonic fighters. He was happy that they’d all been pulled out of school for a few weeks to join their dad on the West Coast. The house was still a new and exciting place for the brothers in comparison to their ranch house in Kansas, the beach and rocks down below that were exposed at low tide holding all sorts of interesting options for exploring and play.

Virge’s hacking cough started again. Scott waved his parents off and offered him a glass of water and his inhaler, and waited for the cough to subside. While Scott recovered from the flu fairly quickly, his younger brothers had taken much longer. Virge and Allie especially had had a hard time shaking the cough. It worried Scott that they were taking so long to get better, even though his friends often told him he was being uncool and a mother hen.

Virge sprawled back across the floor and drowsily started drawing again, although it was now planes flying through clouds. Johnny moved down onto the floor next to him, engrossed in a book now. Scott smiled as he watched Johnny place a supporting hand on Virge’s shoulders. Across the room, he could see his two youngest brothers were curled up asleep in one of the large armchairs with a blanket thrown over them. Mom and Dad sat together on the third large couch, holding hands and talking in low voices.

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”

“The boys have been cooped up here since we arrived from Kansas, so I was hoping to take them out to San Francisco if you can take the rental car instead of the estate wagon.”

“Are they all well enough to be out in the cold weather? They’ve all been so sick, and so have you. I’d hate for any of them to have a relapse and miss even more school than they already have.”

“Relax, darling, it’s so mild here with the sea air. If we were back in Kansas we’d be freezing. The boys are definitely much better than they were even a few days ago. Anyway, you know they’re doing fine in their studies, so the time away from school hasn’t been an issue.” Scott heard the sound of a soft kiss. “This was a great idea of yours to bring us out here between the business tender presentations and the conference. How did it go today?”

“Oh, you know, it’s a NASA presentation. Lots of back slapping and comparing who’s been on the most missions, flown the latest prototype, gotten out of the hairiest situation- the usual ‘I’m a steely-eyed missile man’ stuff.”

“Or woman.”

“Yep, or ‘steely-eyed missile woman’.”

“So are any of your mission buddies here for the conference?”

“No, unfortunately. The Cornerstone team are all retired. And of the Asteria crew, Vicki is prepping for the Ares Seven launch next week.” A pause. “Johan’s husband will be here next week for the memorial though.”

Scott glanced up as his mom kissed the top of his dad’s head gently. He vaguely remembered the jovial Canadian with his bristly moustache visiting the ranch not long after Virge was born.

“I’m so glad you could make it to see him one last time.”

His dad sighed. “Me too.”

“You know, all of us have improved just being here, especially as we can see you every night.”

“Pity I’m due back in New York next week once the conference is finished.”

In the small silence that followed, Scott noticed the blue oil pastel had fallen out of Virge’s hand and that the seven year old was asleep like his younger brothers. Johnny’s head drooped; his eyes at half-mast as he struggled to keep reading his book.

“I know you need to be there for the European Scientific Union Council after the G25 summit there, but -”

“It’s changed from when you went there as a child-“

“It’s more than one bad experience, Jeff. The crime might be under control now, but the crowds, the pollution, the politics – it’s just everything about it.”

“It’s not that bad a place, Luce. There are lots of exciting things the boys could see and do. Art galleries, science museums, FAO Schwarz-”

“No wide open spaces for them to play in. Stuck in cars and traffic jams to get anywhere because the subway is so unreliable. We’ve discussed this previously, Jeff.”

“I know, I know.” Scott heard his dad soothe. He wondered what had happened to his mom in New York as a child that had turned her off it. He personally thought New York sounded boring, all high-rise buildings and no old planes in the back barn to tinker with, but it would be fun to see it just once.

“It’s not like bringing them up in Kansas,” his dad sighed. “There are ups and downs to Tracy Corp doing so well, Luce. We both know that. The upside is being able to fly you and the boys out to join me whenever we want.”

“The downside is the amount of time you need to spend away from us. I caught Alan chattering to the blank vid-com screen today about the adventures he was going to have with you when you returned.”

“That’s a major downside.” A pause again. “But if TC gets the new international shuttle contract for the US Government, well that will place us on a growth trajectory to double the size of Tresser Engineering within eighteen months.”

“It’s that big?”

“Fifty shuttles in the first two years with a total of five hundred over the life of the contract. It’s a ten-year contract with possible extension to fifteen and another three hundred shuttles depending on performance, which makes it bigger than the NASA astrobiology and computing contracts combined.”

Scott heard his mom sigh in turn.

“So tomorrow’s presentation is the satellite tender, right?”

“Yeah. Today was the computing contract presentation, tomorrow’s the satellite one.”

“Do you think we can win it?”

“The top brass at NASA Ames Research Centre are eager to hear our final presentation tomorrow. Not only was I one of them, but also TC is the only company doing any major research and development these days. I think they see a lot of opportunities for joint research projects.”

“You mean you’re a celebrated ex-astronaut turned business mogul who’s taken the corporate world by storm in just ten years. Not to mention all those people who still want to hear you speak, Mr First Man on Mars. Your youngest wanted to read about Mars Man tonight and hear all about his brave daddy.” Mom paused. “Double the size of Tresser Engineering you think?”

“Yep, double the size of the leading competition. That’s big Luce, that means I can take a lot more time off and spend it with you and the boys in Kansas.”

“That would be wonderful.”

Without looking up, Scott knew that the sudden silence meant more kissing. He hoped he was never that mushy when he grew up. Yeah, girls were sort of becoming interesting, but they couldn’t beat a FA 42 Condor, the current USAF stealth fighter jet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the journal finally slip out of Johnny’s hand, as a head full of silky hair drooped onto the ten year old’s chest.

“So anyway unless you need the wagon, I thought I’d take the boys to the Aquarium at Pier 39 and then Exploratorium Extreme.”

Scott’s ears picked up. The Aquarium would be okay and Gordie would love it, but Scott had been hanging out to see Exploratorium Extreme since it opened at Christmas time.

“Won’t you need tickets for the Exploratorium? It’s only been open for a few weeks. I’ve heard it’s impossible to get in to.”

“I have one word for you Jefferson Tracy. Breanna.”

“So that’s why I pay your executive assistant so much money,” Jeff snorted.

“Actually she’s your executive assistant who just happens to really like the boys and I,” Mom said smugly.

“Between Breanna and Dave, I don’t know who dotes on you six more. I’m surrounded by traitors,” Jeff laughed.

“Oh, I think you win the doting award hands down, darling. Who’s gotten up to check on the boys every night since we’ve been here? Who’s brought home new journals and sketchpads and other little presents for the boys, and flowers for me each night? The whole house looks like a florist. Your executive assistant and your head of security don’t hold a candle to you, you big softy.”

Flicking the page over in his magazine, Scott smiled to himself. He hadn’t known that his father had been checking on them each night, walking the hall of the single story log cabin overlooking the Pacific Ocean as he and his brothers slept. It made him feel safe and secure, something he’d thought he’d grown out of the need for, now that he was almost thirteen.

“Yes, it’s okay for you to take the wagon tomorrow.” Scott noticed his dad quickly change the subject; knowing when to beat a strategic retreat in discussions with their mom was an important safety tip he always explained to his sons. “As long as you drive me into Ames Base for a 7am meeting. It means leaving here at 6am to get through the forest roads. The wagon has the base decals and it’s too late to organise a temporary pass for the rental car. We’ll need to refit Alan and Gordon’s booster seats as well. I took them out the other night.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Yawning, Scott really didn’t pay too much attention to the rest of the conversation. He vaguely heard his dad grouse about the dirty tactics of his competitors, and about the unprofessional hints being dropped from some senior agency official at Ames who Jeff said wasn’t fit to have the NASA brand on their resumé.

To Scott the most important thing was that Dad’s business was going well enough that he’d soon be spending more time with the family on the ranch. His mind drifted towards sleep as he imagined life with his dad around more; coming to games, piano recitals and school events; days spent tinkering with farm equipment and watching contrails in the sky, and nights watching for shooting stars and satellites out behind the barn.

In the distance he heard his dad sigh, “Mmmm, you always know how to convince me, Mrs Tracy.” And his mom laughing softly, “Let’s get the boys to bed and then let me show you how happy I am you brought us out here to California.”

A short time later, when he was tucked up in his warm bed with his magazine, his mom’s hand ghosted through his hair as she laid a kiss on his forehead and reminded him not to stay up too late.


	4. Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you to corbyinoz for making this better.

** Chapter 2:  **

_Kansas: early February 2049_

 

Standing on the icy ground surrounded by a muted crowd, Jeff Tracy never wondered where it all went wrong.

 

He could pinpoint the exact moment: a precise 15-minute period he’d brushed off as unimportant at the time.

 

As Gordon’s gloved hand shifted in his grip, Jeff’s mind wandered back to that foggy San Franciscan winter day just under a month ago.

\-----

He could see it so clearly. He remembered how the low clouds almost obscured the deep grey water of the Bay, misting rain hung in the air. Inside the boardroom was grey as well, but that came from uniforms and suits and the surrounding walls.

 

Lucy and the boys were arriving from Kansas that night for a break as they all struggled to get over this season’s virulent strain of influenza. His normally strong and boisterous sons were still wheezing and coughing after the virus had laid them low over a month ago. Even Lucy had succumbed. Time spent in the fresh coastal air would do them all good, and give Jeff some precious time with his family that he desperately missed as he led TC to success beyond his wildest expectations. The initial risks he took with innovation were paying off. These days it seemed every government and defence force across the globe wanted TC technology and components.

 

Striding out of the first of the latest presentations for tenders to NASA’s top research and development brass, Jeff breathed in deeply through his nose. He needed a few moments to centre himself before he travelled back to the office with his team, and they began dissecting the success of their proposed computer system presentation and the reactions from the brass.

 

His ears were still ringing with congratulations on a great presentation and on being awarded the latest USAF contract to develop the next jet fighter to replace the FA 42 Condor, as well as the request to discuss a potential partnership in NASA’s new astrobiology program. Warm handshakes and back slaps were all around until he came to Laurence Courbet, head of procurement at Ames.

 

Grabbing Jeff’s right hand and elbow with both hands, pumping just a little too vigorously, Courbet’s smile was wide and somehow off.

 

“Well Jeff, we need to go to dinner to celebrate, just you and me. Hard to believe we started in this organisation on the same day all those years ago! You with all your flyboy qualifications and experience and me with my head full of finance and logistics. Who’d of thought, hey? Fifteen years later you’re head honcho Tracy Corp, and here I am still in procurement at NASA.  Yep, dinner and the best whiskey money can buy. Just two old friends talking about the pranks we used to get up to.  Although let me know in advance so I leave the bike at home.” He patted his waistline. “Gotta keep trim to compete with the newbie intake. Good thing it’s only a mile cycling home and back.” 

 

Placing a too-familiar arm around Jeff’s broad shoulders, Courbet led him towards the window overlooking the nearby USAF Moffett airfield. Jeff didn’t want to say it, couldn’t say it if he wanted any chance of securing the upcoming astrobiology contract, but he could barely recall meeting Courbet when he first joined NASA in the astronaut intake of ‘34.

 

“You know NASA was never the same after you left, far too dull and boring. Look at you now, Tracy: decorated ex-fighter pilot and ex-astronaut, international hero, a family man, gorgeous wife, five great boys and a successful businessman. You obviously know the _right_ people.”

 

Jeff bristled at the implication, but Courbet continued as if nothing was wrong.

 

“Yes, dinner and the best whiskey and a good chat. I’d love to see Tracy Corporation get more work from us here at Ames.” Courbet looked Jeff straight in the eye. “I’m sure we will have lots of _mutually_ beneficial topics to discuss.” With a final slap on the back, he moved off to speak to the Base Commander.

 

Feeling somehow grubby, Jeff gave his excuses as soon as it was politically expedient to do so and left the grey boardroom. 

 

Waving Dave Philips, his new head of security and long-time friend, and the rest of TC’s senior presentation team towards the elevators, Jeff headed into the men’s washroom across the hall. He almost pulled up short when he realised the joint CEOs of his biggest competitor Tresser Engineering were in there. Both men were tall, burly Texans. Both turned to look at him at the same time.

 

“Ah, TC have obviously finished their presentation! Almost time for Tresser to go in and show them how the professionals do it,” Donald Tresser’s thick Texan twang drawled. “But I’m being rude. I suppose congratulations are in order, Jeff. Although the good ol’ USAF sure missed out when they didn’t award Tresser that new fighter contract.”

 

Jeff headed over to the basin to wash his hands.

 

“Thanks. We’re pretty pleased with the result,” Jeff responded politely.

 

“Hey Donald, I hear that Ames is interested in talking to groups about the new astrobiology project after they’ve finished this round of computing tenders. Large project, very lucrative.” Nathaniel Tresser had the same Texan twang but packaged in a coarser body, all meaty hands and bull-chested thickness compared to his elder brother.

 

“Yes, so I hear, so I hear,” the elder Tresser smiled, oily and insincere. “I’m sure NASA brass won’t want to put all their eggs in one basket. You know, become too dependent on one company. It’s important to, you know, really _protect_ against any _accidents_. Don’t you agree, Nathaniel?”

 

“Exactly Donald, need to ensure that _they_ are _safe_.” The larger brother barred the exit as Jeff turned towards it. “Say Jeff, I hear that beautiful wife of yours is having another exhibition of her pretty pictures soon. Might need to mosey along myself and see if some of her culture _rubs_ off on me.”

 

Jeff silently bit his tongue. He knew that they were deliberately trying to goad a reaction from him by talking about Lucy this way.

 

Donald laughed. “Must be good knowing Lucy and your boys will be in town tonight. It’s been, what two months since you’ve seen them, what with all your work commitments? I hear Scott and John are doing well in their advanced level studies. Topping all their classes, must be looking to take after their Daddy, hey, and join the good ol’ USAF?”

 

Moving closer to leer over Jeff’s shoulder, Nathaniel chuckled. “Virgil looks so much like his mom, doesn’t he? Sweet natured boy too. And Gordon, wow, talks and laughs a mile a minute and just loves that pool you put in last summer, doesn’t he?”

 

Jeff reached over to grab a hand towel, moving away from Nathaniel’s overbearing cologne.

 

Nathaniel chuckled softly as he continued, “Yeah. All of them at school now, and just the baby alone on the ranch with the beautiful Luc-”

 

Luckily for Jeff the door to the men’s washroom opened abruptly. Dave Philips’ broad shoulders blocked the doorway.

 

“Mr Tracy?” Dave scanned the bathroom, noting the other occupants. “Just reminding you of your 11am AVX conference call for Project 26. Would you like me to postpone it?”

 

“All good for the AVX Dave, I’m ready now.”

 

Jeff left the room without a backward glance and followed Dave to the elevators, his head buzzing, breathing shallow as anger threatened to overtake him.  Waiting in front of the burnished silver doors, Jeff knew his head of security was watching him out of the corner of his eye. But to anyone who didn’t know the lanky ex-airforce officer, they’d think he was waiting placidly as a soft bell preceded the elevator doors opening, unworried at finding his boss barred from leaving a room by his closest competitors.

 

Pressing the down button, Jeff waited until the doors closed before taking deep, shaky breaths to calm himself down.

 

“Jeff?”

 

_“Wankers.”_

 

_“Jefferson!”_ Dave Philips could still do a mean impression of Sally Tracy admonishing her only son after hearing it one time during their Air Force Academy graduation. The imitation always made Jeff snort with laughter.  Shaking his head, he turned to his friend.

 

“AVX conference call at 11am?”

 

“Yes indeed, Mr Tracy.” Dave had also perfected dead pan delivery at the academy. He’d used it a number of times get them both out of trouble.

 

Calmer now, Jeff pushed the Tressers out of his mind and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember that in my diary. Did Breanna schedule a new meeting?”

 

The doors opened onto the main foyer and the two men strode outside to the waiting limousine, hurrying against the cool drizzle. 

 

 “Cheng and the team have gone ahead to prepare for the debrief, Mr Tracy.”  Dave opened the front passenger side door for Jeff, and then strode around to the driver side door and got in himself, pressed the ignition button, and entered the destination. The driverless vehicle automatically locked the doors and then slowly pulled out into the main drive.

 

“Dave, 11am AVX conference call? Also, we don’t have a Project 26, you know we never use numerical project names.”

 

A small grin appeared on the Montanan’s face.

 

“Weeeell, maybe I made that up.”

 

Jeff twisted in his seat to look at the other man, raising an eyebrow as he did so. “Dave?”

 

“Well, the way I figure it, you didn’t want to be stuck in a men’s restroom with those two jerks. Not while you’ve got to be in and out of this debrief within an hour.”

 

Jeff glanced at his watch. “It’s only 10am, Dave. I don’t have to be anywhere after the debrief until Lucy and the boys arrive at San Francisco airport at 5pm.”

 

“Midday actually.”

 

“Say what?”

 

“Breanna worked her magic and got Lucy and the boys on an earlier flight. They are arriving at midday.”

 

A warm feeling grew in Jeff’s chest knowing he’d see his wife and sons earlier than expected. It was quickly followed by a cold slice of panic.

 

“Shit, I’ve been so focused on today’s presentation, I haven’t organised any food for the house, or to have the beds made or firewood stocked-“

 

“Jeff, please. How long have Breanna and I been working for you? Give us some credit.”

 

The car pulled up to the security garage of TC’s Moffett Field offices. Passing through the state of the art security system, Dave directed the car to the reserved parking spot, switching off the ignition.

 

“So, the 11am AVX was to cover for Lucy and the boys arriving early?”

 

“No.” Dave’s grin broadened slightly as he got out of the car.

 

“No?”

 

“No.”

 

The two men walked to the secure elevator.

 

“Dave?” Jeff was starting to get a little frustrated with his friend’s stone-walling. He moved into the elevator first, raising an eyebrow at the other man.

 

“Look at it this way, Jeff. Those two Tresser turkeys now think you have an important AVX conference about the mysterious Project 26 at 11am, and they will be wondering what it’s all about.”

 

“Well if they are smart-“ Jeff started, only to be interrupted by a snort from Dave.

 

“Jeff, Jeff, Jeff. You need to start thinking like a sneaky bastard to understand those two.”

 

“Okay Dave, I’ll bite. How do sneaky bastards think?”

 

The elevator door opened straight into Jeff’s spartan sixth floor office, the smell of fresh brewed coffee wafting over from the sideboard.

 

Nodding acceptance as Jeff offered him a mug, Dave struck an overly thoughtful pose.

 

“About now, even though those turkeys are in the middle of presenting to the big brass at NASA they’ll be distracted, wondering what the hell Project 26 is. They’re all over the tenders we are working, so they’ll assume it can’t be any of those. Eventually they’ll start to assume you’re hiding something in plain sight by using a code name so innocuous that it must really be something very big. It will drive them crazy.”

 

“And I suppose you’ll help that along?”

 

“Sure, why not? I’ll drop subtle hints when I’d out getting coffee at the local brew-up about something stupid and they’ll lap it up.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Don’t know. I might wing it on the fly or, I know, start babbling on about ironing and getting clothes ironed and the like.

 

“Ironing.” Jeff raised an eyebrow. “So you want them to think we’re branching out into the world of mass laundry?”

 

“I told you, you’ve got to think sneaky.  What does ironing and 26 have in common?”

 

“Apart from my head of security whose sanity I’m starting to doubt?”

 

“Jeff, I’ve seen your test results at the academy. I know you’ve got a brain in there, so use it as opposed to hiding behind the ‘me NASA hero and handsome hunk’ thing you have going on in public.”

 

“I do not do that!” Pausing, Jeff reflected on the dinner last night with the NASA brass and their wives. “Do I?”

 

“Man, if I didn’t know how besotted with Lucy you are, or how she’d have your balls if you ever did anything…” seeing his friend’s mortified look Dave relented. “Nah, you don’t do it deliberately. You just haven’t gotten rid of the USAF fighter pilot swagger that was drilled into you all those years ago. The groundies used to joke about us flyboys behind our backs all the time. Me? I had it knocked out of me when I started flying aid.”

 

“Huh, I didn’t know I still –“

 

“Focus Jeff, we’ve got five minutes before the debrief. Iron? 26?”

 

“Uh, iron, iron…26…. Periodic table!”

 

“Exactly.  They’ll figure out that 26 is iron and dismiss any link to actual iron, the most common element on earth and start to branch out from there, which could lead them anywhere.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“How do I know? Maybe that Brazil historically had the largest iron mines in the world at the start of the century, so you might be doing something with the Brazilian government. Or that you might be working on something the opposite of 26 on the periodic table – maybe it’s actually 62 not 26.”

 

“Samarium is 62.”

 

“So maybe you’ve found out a way to reverse oxidation of the compound. Perhaps it’s 2 plus 6 which is 8 and you are doing something with -”

 

“Oxygen.”

 

“Or how ‘bout-“

 

“Okay, stop Dave, you are doing my head in with all these theories.”

 

“Yes, but just imagine just how crazy it’s going to be driving the Tressers too.”

Dave stood by the desk looking very pleased with himself. Jeff burst out laughing.

“You, my friend, are a truly evil man. I’m glad you’re on my side. Ok, debrief time.”

“I’ll have the estate wagon downstairs at 11.15am, ready for you to pick the tribe up from the airport.”

Jeff clapped the man on the shoulder and strode into his private conference room not giving the recent encounter with the Tressers a second thought.

 -----

 

Now a fortnight later standing in the pale Kansas winter sun, almost blinded by glare off the snow, his boys dressed in deepest black, united in bewilderment and grief in front of their mother’s open grave, Jeff’s heart was as frozen as the ground.

 

Standing deferentially to the side of the service were neighbours and families from the town. He knew Lucy was popular in the local community, just as his boys were popular at their schools and various clubs. Jeff had embraced those genuine, earthy people who he’d known for all of his life, people who didn’t treat him any differently now he was rich and famous to the way they’d treated him all his life. Honest, open friends, so different to the isolation he felt when he was away from Kansas. They’d come that first morning with casseroles, fresh baked bread and hot tea and coffee, arrived unasked for to tend horses, shovel snow, fix tractors and fences.

 

Key members of TC stood behind the family. Breanna Ryan, his long-time executive assistant crying as her beloved Lucy was laid to rest – sharing a common love for adventure and the arts, the two of them had been a menace when Lucy wanted to drag Jeff along to some piano recital, art gallery or, even worse, an opera.  Standing further back were TC senior managers as well as some of the employees who had been with the company since Jeff first started the business up. Just behind Jeff’s right shoulder ready to support as always, Dave Philips surveyed the gathering with his usual vigilance, occasionally placing a hand on Jeff’s back.

 

Opposite Jeff and his boys, right in front of the open grave, a cluster of people who were to be tolerated even if they were not wanted here.  Resplendent in their expensive suits and shiny uniforms were the government and military people he did business with, and his competitors. There were a few in this group, men and women like Lee Taylor and Catherine Casey with whom Jeff had served years ago in the Air Force, who were welcome. But the majority of them were there to be seen: false sincerity and sorrow on display.

 

Worst of all over on the icy road, being kept off the church grounds by TC security: the press.  Photographers, reporters, TV crews all jostling for position and trying to catch images of the family in their grief.

 

Scott and John were at either end of the family group with the younger boys and Jeff between them. Both stood tall and straight, wide eyes glistening with unshed tears, devastated but hiding it behind stoic masks. Soon to be four years old Alan snuggled in Scott’s arms, sucking his thumb and peering out beneath blond bangs, confused by the crowds, the absence of his mommy and the solemn atmosphere.  

 

Virgil clutched John’s hand desperately, looking like the very ground under his feet had crumbled apart. Gordon held his dad’s hand, looking between his older brothers and father, not understanding why everyone was watching the big ornate box that was being lowered into the ground despite Jeff and Scott’s best attempts to explain what had happened to Mommy.  Knowing people were sad, Gordon tried to keep his own tears at bay, until he looked at Virgil’s watery eyes and promptly started to cry softly himself. Gordon wrapped his free arm around Virgil’s trembling body in order to pull him closer.

 

The whir and clatter of cameras taking multiple high-speed photos, the murmur of reporters ‘respectfully’ telling the world how upset his sons were…

 

Jeff’s eyes came to rest on Laurence Courbet, who’d fussed over Jeff’s sons earlier as if he knew them all their lives and not just met them a few weeks ago, giving them miniature NASA rockets to play with and tousling Gordon and Alan’s hair.  He was still watching them, even as the coffin was lowered into the ground. 

 

Further back in the crowd Jeff spotted Donald and Nathaniel Tresser, both watching him closely.

 

The official police report had said that Lucy lost control going too fast around a foggy hairpin bend on her way back from dropping Jeff off at Ames that morning, but Jeff knew that wasn’t the case. His wife was an excellent driver; she and Jeff had met at a rally car event in the Rockies where Lucy was lead driver for one of the teams.

 

No, looking into the malicious glint in the shark-like eyes of his nearest competitors, Jeff Tracy never wondered where it all went wrong, nor who was to blame. 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting, a bit(!) of travel and then jetlag set in.

Chapter 3: 

For Jeff the first few weeks after the funeral were a blur. Work was filled with preparations, budget projections and operational planning for the NASA Ames astrobiology project tender. Long days of back to back AVX conference meetings: reviewing and adjusting pricing schedules and playing mediator between astrobiologists, operational management and financial analysts; as well as the day to day running of TC. 

Night times were equally frantic. Jeff was trying to run his business from the ranch, as well as look after five grieving but still active boys. He was forever grateful for the support of the local community ferrying each boy between school, sporting events and practices or piano recitals. He’d hired numerous locals to help keep the busy household running. Sophie Sutton from two farms down the road came to clean once per week; Edie from the town laundry did the washing, ironing and frequent mending required for five active boys; the retired high school home economics teacher who’d taught Lucy all those years ago cooked dinners for them and did the shopping on a weekly basis. Eighteen-year-old triplets Ed, Jenny and Jim Rose from across the road helped manage the Tracy ranch while they balanced MOOC studies in agricultural management and sustainable farming methods in preparation for taking over their family holdings. The school principals had organized weekly reports from each of the boys’ teachers on their progress at school: both academically (never an issue for a Tracy son) and importantly how they were emotionally coping in the aftermath of their mom’s death. Katie Richards minded Alan during the day in addition to her three-year-old, while her elder sisters handled after school care, and their widowed mother looked after the boys at night when Jeff was away. 

Unfortunately, as much as Jeff tried, running TC meant he needed to travel to meet clients.

But even with all this help from the local community, Jeff found himself run ragged and wondering how his wife ever managed to cope. He lost count of the number of times he found himself checking on his sons at 1am after the last international calls to Beijing before falling into bed, only to wake up again at 4am because one of the boys was having a nightmare. While the boys were at school or in care, at their various after-school activities and then at night when they were asleep, he tried to run the business of Tracy Corporation. 

During those difficult first weeks Jeff frequently found himself wishing his mother were still alive. But the matriarch of the Tracy family had succumbed to a global flu epidemic just before Scott was born, with large pharmaceutical companies blaming governments for legislation and high tariffs on drug prices restricting the amount of money available for research, and governments blaming the companies for not enough research and development to keep up with mutations in the disease and too much focus on profit. Regardless of whose fault it was, Sally Tracy, along with millions of others had passed away from the virulent mutation. 

He kept telling himself that Lucy had not had to look after the boys and hold down a full-time job leading a global company. But then he’d come across emails about her planned painting exhibitions and piano recitals… he added that to her involvement in the local Veterans retirement home, as well as managing the Tracy ranch and he knew he was kidding himself. She was far more organised and just as smart as he was, and only the biological ability to bear their children and her desire to raise them had meant Lucy wasn’t the one running TC, leaving Jeff to be the figurehead. 

On bad days when he’d lost his temper with one of his sons or with someone from the company, he admitted in the privacy of his mind that she’d do a far better job as chairperson and president of TC. 

He missed her daily, hourly, every minute with a fierce burning throughout his entire body, centred in his heart. She was his touchstone: the one who kept him centred and sane in amongst the stresses and strains and political shenanigans of running a large corporation in a competitive global business environment. But more than this she was the love of his life and the mother of his beautiful sons. 

Jeff found he was often distracted over dinner with the boys when he was home; exhausted during the ninety minutes he promised himself that he would spend with them every evening (exactly 18 minutes for each son including dinner, either in person or via AVX. Not that he’d ever tell his sons that, he never wanted them to feel that they were something he needed to schedule into his life to the exact minute), but he was frequently absent from special school presentations or other events that he promised his boys he would attend. 

He missed Gordon and Alan’s birthdays, relying instead on frantic last-minute calls to good old reliable Breanna and her knowledge of what Lucy would do (as well as her in-depth knowledge of the boys’ personalities if Jeff were honest) to ensure that both of their parties were special and that the presents he gave them (purchase and delivery arranged by Breanna) were unique and exactly what they wanted. He AVXed to wish each of them a happy birthday from Tokyo and London respectively, watching their excitement as they opened the presents he (cough - Breanna - cough) had brought for them. And he saw their disappointment each time he had to admit he wouldn’t be home until the following weekend. 

It broke his already devastated heart a little more each time, before he was again distracted by the next meeting or call. 

Finally, Breanna and Dave Philips cornered him late one night after a rough flight from Helsinki. 

Breanna was there at the arrivals hall after the Finnair flight landed, ushering him efficiently into a Tracy Corp car and then to the private hangers at the far end of the airport. Tracy One was Jeff’s first extravagant purchase five years ago, a necessity to ensure he could keep his family in their native Kansas. It allowed the boys to grow up with real down to earth people who had honest values, surrounded by freedom, wide open spaces and the ability to climb and run and tinker to their hearts’ content just as Jeff and Lucy had as children. 

Breanna carried her AVX-Pro as she climbed up the stairs into Tracy One, ready to go over the latest results and preparation for the quarterly general management and financial results meeting next week. 

Stowing his luggage and Breanna’s overnight bag in the hold, he was surprised to see another bag already in there. Puzzled, he climbed aboard as well only to find all the pre-flight checks done and flight plan to Kansas already logged and signed by the familiar scrawl of his head of security and best friend. Said best friend who was sitting smugly in the cockpit in the captain’s seat, already starting to warm up the engines as Jeff closed the cabin door. 

“Why do I get the feeling I’ve been kidnapped by my own staff?” Jeff grumbled good-naturedly standing at the cockpit door.

“Because you’ve been kidnapped by your own staff?” Dave grinned at him. 

“All for your own good Jeff,” Breanna chimed in. “You’ve been on the go non-stop now for seven days, running on too little sleep, too many time zones and too much caffeine. I wasn’t about to let you fly me to the ranch like this.”

“So, Uncle Dave is along for the trip. Strap yourself back in there while we get this show on the road.” Dave pushed slightly against the throttle to get the executive jet rolling forward out of the large private hanger. Sighing gratefully, Jeff relaxed back into the plush leather armchairs in the main cabin. He closed aching eyes as they taxied out to the main runway, and was asleep before the engines roared, ten-seat jet accelerated and quickly lifted into the air.

The next thing Jeff knew was a bump and sudden lurch to the side as Tracy One touched down on his ranch airstrip, and the roar of engines quickly thrown into reverse. 

“Now I know why I normally don’t let you pilot when we fly together!” Jeff called out to the darkened cockpit. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up flyboy. You try landing in this strong cross wind on an icy ranch airstrip on a dark night. If you saw how good I am when I’ve had to land delivering aid under fire, you’d have a bruised ego. Can’t have that.”

“Sophie organised for the guest bedrooms in the barn conversion to be made up for Dave and I.” Breanna interrupted the friendly bickering, not in the mood to prolong anything that stood between her and sleep in a proper warm comfortable bed. “You have breakfast with the boys at 7am. Once you’ve back from the school run at 9.30, we can go through the presentations for the quarterly management meetings, and Dave can update you on the latest security upgrades at the Ames and New York offices, and potential locations for the second Chinese office. At 2.30pm we will break so you can pick up Gordon and take him and Alan to the indoor pool for swimming lessons. Dinner will be at 5.30pm, then at 7.15 pm John has the Midwest Middle School Championship Debate finals on in the school auditorium; I’ve booked tickets for you, Scott and Virgil. Dianne Richards will look after Gordon and Alan until you arrive back home at 9.30pm. We take off at 6am the following morning for New York for the first of the quarterly meetings. The annual management dinner is on that night.”

“What do I owe Sarah and Jean for keeping you two away overnight?” Jeff unbuckled his seatbelt as the plane taxied to a halt, referring to Dave and Breanna’s respective partners. 

“Tickets to the new Wei Agarwal opera that opens in two months would be good,” Breanna piped up brightly. “Jean is really excited about it.”

“Seven tickets to the Air Force - Army game in November and we are even.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow as he prepared to open the plane door. “Seven? You dragging Sarah and whose army to a football game?”

Dave snorted as he pulled his heavy coat on. “Nah, no way will Sarah go, but she wants to ensure you have a fun day with the boys booked in before Christmas that you can’t get out of, and I figured it was a good way to ensure I got to see the Falcons smash the Black Knights this year.”

Jeff shook his head as he descended the stairs to the tarmac. He had good people, the best. 

Grabbing the bags from the hold, relief at finally being home draining the last of the adrenaline from his body, Jeff yawned mightily. He looked at the ranch-house in the distance, the back-porch light welcoming him home after too long away from his sons. He noticed a flicker of flashlight from Scott’s window and smiled, knowing his eldest boy was habitually a light sleeper when his parents were away. The smile faded from his face when he remembered that Lucy would never be back home. 

Fifteen minutes later, he was quietly checking in on each of his boys. In the first room Alan was curled into a small ball around his latest favourite stuffed toy, no doubt secured by John via the claw machine at the local arcade; while Gordon was sprawled on his stomach with blankets thrown off. Both were snoring lightly from blocked noses. Jeff rearranged the blankets over Gordon and kissed both boys lightly on top of their heads. He left the small rocket nightlight on and the door ajar before moving down to the next bedroom. 

Virgil was curled on his side with hands under his pillow, vying for space in a bed crowded with toy planes, tractors, a sketchbook and a large box of neatly ordered colour pencils. Jeff shook his head fondly, reaching down to smooth dark hair back, frowning when he felt a temperature on his son’s damp forehead. 

Drowsy brown eyes blinked open. 

“Daddy?”

“Hush son, it’s okay, Daddy’s here. Everything is fine. Go back to sleep.”

His seven year old snuggled back into the pillow and was soon snoring softly. Jeff felt his back to ensure that his pyjama top wasn’t damp.

“It’s just a low grade virus, not the return of the ‘flu. He caught it off Gordon, who caught it off Alan who caught it at preschool last week. Gordon and Alan are over the worst of it, just blocked noses now. Virgil’s fever broke this morning, but Mrs Richards wants to keep him in bed for another day or two to make sure. She doesn’t think he should go to John’s debate tonight.” 

Jeff turned to see his eldest boy shivering in the doorway. Quietly padding across the room, he hugged Scott and then looked pointedly down at bare feet.

“Why are you awake at 2.30am? More importantly, what are you doing not only awake and out of bed, but without socks in winter at 2.30 in the morning?”

“It’s actually 2.14 Dad.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. His eldest was so like him in many ways, always quick on his feet and with a ready answer. He wondered how his mother had coped during his own teenage years. 

“Even so-“

“I missed you, Dad.” 

“I missed you too, Scott. All of you boys,” Jeff gave him another hug. “Come on, back to sleep.”

“You need to check on John first. I’ll come with you.” 

Jeff signed. He knew that determined look on Scott’s face. The almost teenager wanted to have a serious conversation but needed his dad to complete the night time ritual of checking on all his sons first. 

“Okay Scooter. Let’s check on John and then I’ll tuck you in to bed.”

When Scott didn’t protest being tucked into bed, Jeff knew his eldest was hiding something. Typical of Scott, it would be something he’d desperately want to discuss with his dad, but equally wouldn’t want to worry him about. He placed an arm around young shoulders and guided them into the dark bedroom next door. 

By the light of the landing Jeff could see John on his back with three large books next to his head and another open on his chest. Jeff was surprised the bedside light wasn’t on. Taking the book off the ten year old’s chest, Jeff pulled blankets up to John’s chin and laid his hand on sleep-tousled hair and forehead. No temperature here. 

“John hasn’t gotten sick. Mrs Richards and I kept him away from the others because we knew the debate finals were coming up, and I turned John’s light off at ten just after he fell asleep.”

Jeff raised his eyebrows again and looked down into deep blue eyes so like his own. 

“I’ve been asleep too,” Scott clarified. “I went to sleep after I turned John’s light off and then I woke when I heard Tracy One’s engines start to throttle back for landing.” 

“Okay, time for you to be in bed as well, Scooter.” Jeff herded them out onto the landing and into Scott’s bedroom. 

Jeff held his tongue as he tucked thick blankets underneath the mattress. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he smoothed back dark brown hair, waiting for his silent son to speak. 

“Dad,” Scott started eventually. Jeff hummed acknowledgement. 

“When… when we were in California,” Scott hesitated over painful memories. 

“Go on Scott, I’m listening.”

Scott took a deep breath through his nose, ran one hand back through his hair and continued. “When we were in California, I overheard you telling Mom that if you won the international shuttle contract you’d be able to be home more often.” He paused, picking at the red stitching on the edge of his navy blanket. 

Jeff waited him out again, knowing that hurrying Scott would lose the point that he was working towards. His eldest was showing signs of being a real leader, captaining the school ice hockey and baseball teams. This hesitancy was unlike the son he knew. 

“I know you haven’t heard about it yet, but it – I – um, was that just because Mom was still alive and now she’s not you don’t want to spend as much time with us here on the ranch? I’m trying to make sure the kids behave and that we all do well at school and sport and music; and John and I are helping with the ranch chores to make things easier and I make sure that we all stick to our 18 minutes in the evening when it’s our turn to talk to you about our -“

“What?” Jeff choked, shocked at what he’d heard. 

“It’s just that we know how busy you are, but one of the people from the funeral said that your work was the most important thing in your life now Mom isn’t here, so John and I are trying to make sure-“

“Scott, stop.” Jeff unconsciously mirrored his son by taking a deep breath through his nose and running his fingers back through his own hair, thoughts tumbling furiously through his mind. 

Suddenly a lot of things clicked into place. He’d been so busy letting himself get caught up in the business, needing to ensure that tenders and pricing for crucial contracts were exactly right, that he’d followed the exact same schedule that he had set up prior to Lucy’s death. He’d tried in those first few weeks to spend as much time at the ranch as possible to be there for his boys, but as tender and development deadlines, monthly and quarterly management meetings all converged, he’d let himself get swept up in the minutiae of his business and the politics of operating in a global economy, never stopping to look around him. He wasn’t travelling any more than he had previously - running TC meant travel, and lots of it while he was based in Kansas – but he didn’t have the luxury of Lucy at home any more to look after the boys, or to tell him to stop and come home immediately because his family was more important than a meeting. He’d lost sight not of how intellectually smart his sons were but of just how observant they were as well. It wouldn’t take Scott and John long to pick up a pattern in little things like Jeff limiting the amount of time he spent with each of the boys nightly. And Virgil, ever sensitive to the moods of everyone within the family, would quickly pick up on his elder brother’s disquiet and put two and two together. 

No, there was no way Scott, John or even Virgil had missed out on the 18-minute allotment of time. When added to missed birthdays, recitals and presentations, heck even just a rushed dinner together more than once a week…

He had even missed when Scott had suddenly dropped childhood nicknames and started calling his brothers by their proper names. 

No wonder Scott was starting to wonder if Jeff’s work was more important than his sons.

“Is this why I wasn’t told that the boys had been sick?”

“I told Mrs Richards that I’d told you so she didn’t say anything to Breanna.” Scott continued to pick at the blanket-stitching. “I didn’t want you to think you had to rush back-”

This had to stop, and stop now. 

“Scott, you and your brothers are the most important things in my life. No exceptions,” Jeff began. 

Scott continued looking at the blanket, so Jeff reached out and gently placed his hand under the boy’s chin so that they were looking at each other. 

“You, John, Virgil, Gordon and Alan are the single most important things in my life – if there was ever any choice, I would give up everything to be with you. You know I handed in my resignation to NASA shortly before you were born and I’d completed that last eight-month rotation on the moon base. I didn’t want to miss any of your milestones, and wanted to be here for you and your brothers. I didn’t want you to grow up with a father who was a hero but had been killed in a space accident.”

Jeff watched as Scott flinched slightly, looking down, obviously wanting to believe his father but seeing actions not supporting words over the past months. Jeff cursed himself quietly for being so blunt and reminding Scott of his mom’s death, but he was operating on too little sleep, running on caffeine fumes and casting about desperately to find a way to reassure his eldest son how much he loved all of them. 

In the cold dead of night in the family home in rural Kansas, Jeff could only think of one solution. The one option Lucy had fought against as soon as they knew she was pregnant with John. 

“Scott, what if I had a solution that meant that we could spend a lot more time together as a family, and that I wouldn’t have to travel as much because people could come to see me?”

His eldest son looked up with hope in his tired eyes. “That would be HACC Dad!” At Jeff’s blank look, he clarified, “Humungously Awesome, Critically Cool!”

Jeff chuckled at the latest teenage saying. 

“To do this, we would have to move from the ranch Scott, live somewhere else. That would mean all of you leaving your friends.”

“Could we still come here for summer break?”

“Yes, you could still come here for holidays during summer break. I’d try to arrange my holidays for then too.”

“Where would we live if we left the ranch, Dad?”

“New York, Scott,” Jeff smiled. “It would be very different to living in Kansas but if I was based in New York full time then people would come to me most of the time, so we could be together as a family more often.”

“That would be HACC, Dad,” Scott yawned. 

“Alright you, sleep now. We will speak more about this tomorrow and talk to your brothers too.”

“ ‘Night, Dad.”

Jeff bent down and brushed lips across Scott’s forehead. “ ‘Night, Scooter. Sleep well.”

Safely in his own bedroom, a wall of memories of his life with Lucy and the boys here on the ranch in front of him, Jeff pulled out his AVX Pro and sent Dave and Breanna a quick message: ‘Priority one discussion tomorrow: move family to New York.’

Putting his AVX Pro away for the night, he gazed at a portrait shot of his beautiful wife. 

“Lucy, I know you and I both hate New York, the politics and social climbing and corruption. I know we agreed that we’d never live there and we’d raise the boys here, but I can’t do it any more without you. I can’t run the company, raise the boys here in Kansas and have all of us be a family. I promise I will do everything I can to protect the boys from the things we hate about it there.” 

Jeff gazed at his wife’s soulful brown eyes. 

“God, I hope I’m doing the right thing, Lucy.” 

The portrait gave no response.


End file.
